


Out of the Woods

by meet_me_onthe_equinox



Category: Parks and Recreation, parks and rec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8683288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meet_me_onthe_equinox/pseuds/meet_me_onthe_equinox
Summary: AU where the real world is left behind. Kind of.





	1. Wood

_Dear mom and dad,_

_I know I haven’t been very talkative lately. I guess I was too busy doing some thinking. It’s like my own mind replaced you and everyone else. But it wasn’t in vain. I’ve come to some conclusions and, if you know me the least bit, I’m pretty sure you won’t be surprised._

_I can’t seem to fit in this world, or in_ real life, _as you always call it when we argue about the same old things. I just don’t get it, I don’t get its stupid rules, how everything works, how everything is corrupted. To be fair, I don’t think this is a terrible world, but it is filled with terrible people. And I might not know how to live, but I definitely want to be alive. Just not here, not in this… civilization._

 _The truth is I’ve been dying to leave for a while now. I just didn’t have the guts to do it, or the proper means, for that matter. But now that I’ve gathered both, I can’t stay here anymore. Everything is packed as I write this, and by_ everything _I mean half of my clothes, some snacks, my books and my navy blue suitcase. Yeah, the one you got me for Christmas and I told you I’d never use. I can’t tell you what’s in it, though. Just know it’ll keep me safe in case of an emergency._

_I will be well, that’s all you need to know. Please, don’t try to find me. That’s the best thing you can do for me. I need to find myself and lose the rest._

_Love you,_

_April._

* * *

‘‘So, is everything the way you expected?’’ Mr. Swanson asked over the phone.

‘‘Yeah, it’s perfect. No TV, no Internet, not even a refrigerator,’’ April answered, flopping down on the shoddy couch. ‘‘Comfortable couch, too.’’

‘‘Okay then. Now there’s only one thing left to do.’’

‘‘Where can I get rid of it?’’

‘‘Good God, woman. Just make yourself a good fire and burn the hell out of it,’’ he said as if that was the easiest thing in the world. ‘‘Anyway, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Ludgate. You can rest assured that no one will find you.’’

‘‘Thank you, Mr. Swanson.’’

And then, he hung up.

‘‘A fire,’’ April snorted.

There was no way she could make a bonfire by rubbing two sticks together, if that even was how it was made. She cursed herself for not having bothered to learn something that basic, especially since she’d quit smoking weeks ago and didn’t carry a lighter with her anymore.

For the first time since this plan started taking shape in her mind, it occurred to April that she wasn’t as prepared as she thought she would be. Loneliness and isolation were the furthest thing from a problem for her, and according to popular culture, those were the two most challenging things any human could face. Thus, she’d thought herself more than ready.

But lighting a fire… yeah, that could actually be a problem. As for her phone, there were other ways to destroy it. April looked around the cabin’s sole room, searching for something heavy enough to smash the device with. But its content was limited.

The wooden cabin she’d purchased was as modest as she could have asked for. Equipped with simple furniture, the place only featured a shelf (now filled with April’s books and scrapbooks), a round table, a wardrobe and a small kitchen with no appliances whatsoever. There was also a hearth right in front of the already mentioned couch, and a double bed in the back of the room. Most things were made of wood, and almost looked handmade. All in all, it was everything April had been searching for.

Then, she remembered about the storage outside. It was a small cubicle intended for keeping shovels, saws and other tools. She almost couldn’t believe she now owned like five different saws and a sharpener. Yet another proof moving to the middle of nowhere had been the right call. But it was the hammer that April needed to make sure her cell phone would never receive another call.

* * *

As it turns out, the necessity of kindling wood was not the only thing April had neglected to consider. There was also this minor detail of getting food once she ran out of the snacks she’d brought with her. April had never been much thorough about anything in her life, but only now did she realize how stupid the lack of planning had been on her part. She’d been so excited since she eavesdropped in some seedy bar and heard about this Mr. Swanson guy that could make anyone disappear. After that, April had been so focused on that ultimate goal that she’d forgotten even missing people need some sort of supplies. But she would deal with that later.

 _Later_ arrived in less than a week, though. The best week of April’s life, as she thought one evening while reading on the couch. During that time, she’d done nothing else than reading, sipping cold tea (made with the clean water coming from the rusty faucet in the kitchen) and climbing up to the cabin’s rooftop just to see the sun set before those creepy stars appeared and she had to go back inside.

April finished the last page of _Into the Wild_ and her last Twix bar almost simultaneously. It was only noon, and even though there was no way she could be hungry at the moment, she wasn’t dumb enough to think she wouldn’t be at some point (April had already made that mistake once, and she didn’t intend to repeat it).

Closing the novel, April glanced at the window and saw the pines swaying gently with the soft wind. She thought about it for a while. If she was going to live as an outcast in the woods, she might as well learn how to do so. She would have to adapt to these new surroundings, and to the lifestyle she’d chosen for herself. Otherwise, she wouldn’t make it.

With renewed determination, April got outside and walked towards the storage. Beneath a dusty canvas sheet, she found the cage trap she’d purposely ignored when she went there for the hammer on that first day. Much to her surprise, the net wasn’t that heavy, so April carried it effortlessly into the woods. She then camouflaged it with some leaves and branches, and let the waiting do the rest as she left the spot.

Meantime, April figured she’d try and make a fire, although with no more instructions than what movies and books had taught her. After all, she would have to cook whatever would be trapped in that cage.

Rubbing a stick against what she thought could be used as kindling ended up being the most exhausting, annoying, pointless thing she’d ever done - and April had had her fair share of those three elements in her life. She was about to give up when a tiny cloud of smoke sprung up from the tinder. Her hands were covered in blisters, but she couldn’t care less. Maybe she could make a go of this survival thing and never have to come back to the senseless life she had been leading before.

* * *

A hare. April was having a freaking hare for dinner. She should be grateful; it could have been way worse. It could have been a skunk. The nervous animal trembled inside the cage, still alive - and, as it seemed to April, eerily aware of its future.

‘‘Okay… okay,’’ April said, not sure if she wanted to calm down the hare or herself.

She picked up a solid rock from the ground and, with a quick move, grabbed the pray by the neck with her free hand.

‘‘Okay,’’ she repeated. ‘‘I’m so, so sorry.’’

April lifted her right arm, holding the rock in the air and determined to… But that stare, almost intelligent… That constant bouncing of two powerless legs, that heart pounding frantically underneath the dun fur. That life she was about to end with no remorse whatsoever. Before she knew it, the hare was running free as April remained there on her knees, shocked and with nothing to eat for supper.

* * *

Thankfully, there were other things to eat in the forest, like cranberries, blackberries, huckleberries and lots of other berries April had no idea what they were even called. So many berries she ended up so sick of them, to the point that she felt like barfing every time she had to eat one of those for the sake of not dying of starvation. Of course she could have opted for the mushrooms instead, but there was no way to know whether or not they would be poisonous.

One morning, April woke up particularly hungry. Everything went blurry the moment she stood up from bed, and she felt so dizzy she had to sit down again for a couple of minutes. Okay, she needed a proper meal. For the first time since she came to that isolated place, April wished it wasn’t so far from everything as it was. Maybe she could have stolen some food, had there been any other cabins nearby, or even some crops she could take a couple of carrots from.

Wait, was she really sure there weren’t any of those things in a close proximity? April hadn’t gotten too far from the cabin, not more than a mile around, lest she end up lost and die. But that daily menu of hers was going to kill her anyways, so maybe it was time to explore that land a little more.

* * *

April didn’t know how much a famished body could bear until she found herself walking up a mildly steep hillside and barely catching her breath. She’d been heading East for more than half an hour now, all for nothing. Defeated, April turned around after she reached another flat area, full of the same trees she’d left behind. She would try North the following day, but for now it was time to go back home.

But, as April retraced her steps, something caught her attention. A dirty, worn out blanket hung from a limestone wall on her left. Walking over, she carefully pushed the blanket aside. It felt rough against her fingers. Turns out, the fabric was just a substitute for the door that a cave entrance could have never had. The hole in the wall was somewhat narrow, but tall enough for any medium-sized person to go in without having to tilt their head down.

Not a second thought crossed April’s mind before she stepped into the cave, leaving the blanket ajar to let the light in. The inside looked like the house of a 98-year-old woman who never felt inclined to change her grandparent’s original furniture. The table, the cabinets and the mattress base were wooden, just like April’s, but a thousand times older. The elder bed seemed to be the only mushy surface in there. A couple of torches had been attached to the walls, but they were off. There was also one single photograph hanging there. It had been ripped off in half, and the remaining side of the image showed a smiling, bearded man cradling a blond baby in his arms. April had the strange hunch that she knew that man. Where had she seen him before?

 _First thing first_ , her loud stomach told her in its own language. April’s brain was starving too, and it couldn’t have given a damn about who might be the owner of such place. It just urged her to open the cabinets for any food they could possibly contain. And that was exactly what she did.

Her jaw dropped at the sight of raw meet wrapped in transparent film. She hurriedly put it in her bag, as well as the little sacks filled with almonds she found on the upper shelf. One more steak was kept inside one of the drawers, and April wondered how it was all so well-preserved, and not at all rotten. She checked the meat in her bag more carefully now, expecting to find a bunch of worms feasting on the flesh. But it was perfectly clean. It couldn’t have been much long since that place was last inhabited. Or maybe it was still…

April’s blood froze inside her veins when she heard the blanket being removed at the entrance. A great, menacing silhouette stood just a few feet from her. For a moment, she was convinced a giant of the forest was the actual owner of that place and, given the knife he was holding, a terrible death awaited the trespasser. But then, the rational part of her ill-fed mind remembered giants didn’t exist, and figured that it was probably just a pretty big man. Big, and armed, and ready to attack.


	2. Water

Much to April’s surprise, that enormous man didn’t move an inch closer to where she was standing. Instead, he stepped aside, letting the light coming from the outside illuminate half of his huge figure. A mess of dark blonde hair was matted at the top of his head, short curls still lingering there despite the dirt. His clothes –a brownish plaid shirt and a pair of cargo pants from the nineties- were also sloppy and shabby, as if he’d never worn anything else, ever.

After the two seconds that took April to analyze his appearance, she noticed he kept a defensive position. Defensive, not menacing. The sharp knife in his hand was pointing to the cave’s ceiling, not towards her. He was holding it like a shield. April’s eyes went from the weapon to the man’s face. Something in those soft traits sent her a reassuring flash, like a white flag telling her that he was harmless. Those green eyes were far from showing anything but a disconcerting fear.

April put her hands up, making it clear she had no intention of hurting him in any way. As she did so, the backpack containing the stolen food fell to the ground with a thud.

‘‘Hey,’’ she began. ‘‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was yours.’’

‘‘Who are you?’’ he frowned, his hand tightening its grip around the haft.

‘‘I’m April. I live like two miles away from here… Just needed some food.’’

She would have added that he could have what she had just taken, and that she would leave immediately. But she was too hungry to let go of the red meat by her feet.

‘‘Why haven’t I seen you before?’’

‘‘I just got here like a week ago. I’m new here, and I don’t know-’’

‘‘Are you alone?’’ he interrupted.

‘‘Yes. I just… I was hungry, that’s all.’’

He pondered it for a few seconds. Then, he sheathed the knife in his belt and held out a hand.

‘‘Andy,’’ he presented himself.

As he approached, she noticed he smelled nothing like dirt. His scent was a weird combination of pine leaves, wood and… lavender? April’s hand disappeared in his as she shook it. It was huge, rough and incredibly warm.

‘‘So…’’ he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. ‘‘You hungry, huh?’’

* * *

Knowing that Andy was willing to share his food, April had no problem placing the stolen food back where it belonged. The smell of roasting meat even made her feel a bit guilty as Andy kept the bonfire alive in the open forest. Once it was done, she ate it as if she hadn’t eaten properly for six days, which was exactly the case.

‘‘Wow. You really were starving,’’ he piped up afterwards.

‘‘Yeah, well… Turns out, I’m not super good at hunting.’’

‘‘I could teach you,’’ he shrugged. ‘‘These things are so easy to catch, you’d be surprised.’’

‘‘Well, it’s not the catching I have trouble with. It’s more the…’’

‘‘Killing part?’’ he guessed, forcing April to divert her gaze to the ground. It was embarrassing, especially considering she was the one who chose this lifestyle in the first place. ‘‘Yeah,’’ he laughed. ‘‘I was right not to be afraid of you.’’

‘‘You kinda were at first,’’ she teased back.

‘‘Of course I was. It’s not like some wild boar had broken into my cave or something.’’

‘‘Yeah, because boars are way less dangerous than people,’’ April rolled her eyes.

‘‘They are,’’ Andy replied earnestly, his eyebrows meeting. He was no longer joking.

* * *

As April learned, Andy was a simple guy with simple solutions to the simple problems of his uneventful life. Except those problems had been a much bigger deal to April, given the fact that she almost starved to death; and that a life where one had to keep an eye on predators while surviving with the most basic means seemed everything but boring.

Likewise, it didn’t take much for her to notice there was some depth in what could have been the mind of a brutal caveman. Instead of the animal instincts that would have sufficed to get him through that kind of life, she found a great sense of humanity in those green eyes. She found compassion, even when he taught her how to make a lethal trap: he’d come up with a way to end the prey instantly, so its suffering would be minimal. April still didn’t love the idea, but at least those ropes would finish the job for her.

Though April’s cabin provided her with clean water, that kitchen sink had been kind of annoying when it came to maintaining good hygiene. Thus, April couldn’t have been gladder that Andy knew of a pristine lake nearby, where he took _nature showers_ , as he called them. Before she knew it, he was already doing a cannonball after having jumped from a rock. He did so completely naked, and oblivious whether it would make April uncomfortable. The truth was, it didn’t. Yet, she did have to ask for some privacy when her turn came.

‘‘Okay,’’ he agreed, though he seemed confused. ‘‘I’ll wait down there, right behind those brambles.’’

April watched him as he walked away, and her stomach twisted strangely before she remembered about the clear water awaiting her.

* * *

Later, they had some snacks –nuts and a kind of berries that, surprisingly, April hadn’t tried yet-, at the top of a grassy hillside. The sun was already setting behind the hills afar, but its remaining warmth was enough for April’s hair to dry faster than expected.

‘‘So… can’t girls be naked in The Outside?’’ he asked after a while.

The question would have bothered April, had it not been for the genuine curiosity that leaked through his tone.

‘‘The Outside as in… where I come from?’’

‘‘Yes. That’s how my father used to call it, at least.’’

‘‘Well, we actually can. But we don’t get naked in front of whomever, you know? Same for men.’’

‘‘Why not?’’

‘‘I don’t know,’’ she hesitated. ‘‘There has to be some… confidence, I guess. At least in most cases.’’ It all seemed kind of stupid now that she put that into words. Again, she remembered why she had left that _Outside_ behind.

‘‘That’s weird,’’ he chuckled.

‘‘Yeah,’’ she laughed as well. ‘‘So, your father taught you all you know?’’

‘‘Uh-huh. He told me about your world, too.’’

‘‘What did he tell you?’’

‘‘That it’s dangerous. Like, people steal and kill each other. And they lie a lot.’’

‘‘Yeah, that’s kind of why I left,’’ she snorted, joylessly.

Andy gave her an understanding smile and then hugged her with no warning. She didn’t push him away. Maybe because it felt good, maybe because she hadn’t felt that good in months, probably years.

‘‘Welcome to my team,’’ he said when he broke apart.

‘‘I thought I was already on it.’’

‘‘Nah, you were on trial.’’

He kept on smiling and April shook her head, rolling her lips as if her own smiles still needed to be repressed.

‘‘So, where is he now?’’ she asked, though maybe too soon. April’s lack of tact struck her as Andy’s smile vanished from his face. ‘‘I’m sorry, I didn’t-’’

‘‘He’s gone. I woke up one morning and he wasn’t there. I figured he’d gone hunting, but he wouldn’t come back. I spent the next year or so looking for him, going to places I’d never been before around here. But I never left the woods. Part of me felt like a total coward, but I also knew he wouldn’t have wanted me to go.’’

‘‘That sucks,’’ she said. ‘‘I mean, that he left, not that you didn’t go outside.’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ Andy sighed, throwing a pebble down the hill. Circular waves echoed in the water surface after it sank in the lake. ‘‘I’m still waiting for him to come back. I know it’s crazy, but-’’

‘‘It’s not,’’ April cut him off.

No, there weren’t any animalistic traits in his behavior whatsoever. But he wasn’t like most humans either. For the first time, April understood what her stomach had been trying to tell her ever since they met, and it had nothing to do with hunger.


	3. Warped

Having a guy she’d known for barely a week over to her cabin wasn’t probably the smartest decision on April’s part. Especially since he had been living in a cave all his life, and his behavior could have been less predictable than the one of those Pawnee raccoons. But, after four days of hunting, swimming and exploring the woods together, a strange bond formed between them. There was something about Andy’s simple views and plain honesty that made her feel at peace. A reassuring purity that April hadn’t been able to find before, nonexistent back in the world she’d run away from.

She was guided through the greenery by a gut feeling that she could actually trust him, along with a newfound sense of direction April didn’t know she had in her. Not long after, they reached the familiar clearing where the cabin stood.

‘‘Wooow!’’ Andy marveled as his jaw dropped. ‘‘So, this is how your people live?’’

‘‘They’re not my people,’’ she protested, wrinkling her nose at the idea. ‘‘Plus, houses in the city are way fancier than this.’’

They climbed the front porch stairs, and April fumbled in her pocket for the key.

‘‘What is that?’’ he asked.

‘‘A lock. We use them so no one can break into our homes and such,’’ she shrugged right before realizing how stupid it was to still lock the door that far from civilization. April decided she would get rid of that key as soon as they went fishing at the river again.

‘‘Oh, right. People steal there.’’

 

Neither the clean water coming from the faucet nor April’s cozy furniture impressed Andy as much as the shelves did. More specifically, he was awed by the endless rows of books on them –Mr. Swanson had made sure all of April’s books got there safely before she did.-

‘‘Do you like to read?’’ April asked.

_Could he even read?_

‘‘Yeah,’’ he nodded, running his fingers across the book spines. ‘‘I only have one book, though.’’

‘‘Which one?’’

‘‘ _Lord of the Flies_. My dad used to read that one to me before bed, and then he taught me how to read it myself.’’

‘‘Makes sense,’’ she muttered.

‘‘Oh! What are these?’’

His dragging fingers had gotten to the top right part of the bookcase, where several binders stood out among the smaller volumes.

‘‘Scrapbooks,’’ she answered vaguely. ‘‘Just something I do when I’m bored, but they’re not-’’

‘‘Can I see them?’’ he interrupted.

‘‘They’re kinda gross…’’

Actually, the fact that Andy could be grossed out by the binders’ content didn’t worry her much. After all, he literally skinned animals for breakfast. It was the dark side behind those weird collections that could mar Andy’s pristine spirit. The dark side of the world she’d left behind, but also a justification for her motives, fears and alienation.

‘‘Then, you tell me which one is less gross than the others,’’ he insisted. ‘‘ _Halloween went wrong?_ _Not-so-human Organs? The Best Serial Killers of All Time?_ ’’

‘‘Probably the last one.’’

Given Andy’s height, he didn’t have much trouble reaching for the scrapbook in question. He then walked over the couch and sat with the binder on his knees. April followed suit, watching awkwardly by his side as Andy went through the pages. As the title read, the profiles of the most violent, twisted serial killers showed their complete history of crimes, illustrated with the creepiest mug shots.

‘‘Why do you do this?’’ he asked. Though somewhat disturbed, he kept flipping the pages, as if he couldn’t stop looking evil in the eye.

April snatched the binder from his lap as soon as she realized her worries had been confirmed. What was she thinking? How dared she polluting the only pure soul she’d ever come across? Those were her own demons, her own personal quirks, with their warped, personal purpose.

‘‘Nevermind,’’ she said, her gaze fixed on the wooden floor.

‘‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’m just curious.’’

Andy waited, but she said nothing.

‘‘I mean, aren’t those the kind of people you wanted to be away from?’’ he asked after a while. Then he frowned, suddenly concerned by some new thought he’d never considered till then. ‘‘Unless… Unless that’s not the real reason why you left.’’

His tone made April turn her head, and for the second time since she’d known him, she saw fear on Andy’s expression. How come she’d been the source of every negative emotion this man had felt over the last week?

‘‘No, Andy, there’s no other reason,’’ April assured him. Her eyes went back to the scrapbook as she played with a poorly glued newspaper article. ‘‘I guess… It’s kind of a reminder, you know? Like, this stuff happens around the world. It reminds me that I’m doing the right thing by staying away from it all.’’

‘‘Hmm… Makes sense,’’ he quoted her previous response. His following half smile showed nothing but understanding.

April smiled back at him. She indulged herself with those green seas of empathy, letting the whole room disappear, as did all judgments. It was kind of weird not having that irrational tension clinging to her chest, to let loose, to relax for once. Maybe she was taking too much of it, though. Maybe it was time to leave the sea and get back on solid ground. April averted her look again, idly turning over another page of the scrapbook.

And then it hit her.

There he was, that bearded man she’d seen in Andy’s only photograph back in his cave, staring blankly at the prison camera. The man’s appearance had worsened in the lapse of time between the two pictures but, despite his hollow cheeks and sallow skin, she recognized him easily. April snapped the binder shut, but kept one hand inside not to lose the page.

‘‘What?’’

‘‘Andy…’’ she began, but the words wouldn’t come out.

‘‘What is it?’’

‘‘What was your father’s name?’’

‘‘Lenny. Why?’’

There was no way to tell him that. In fact, April was starting to doubt it was a good idea, after all. But, on the other hand, hadn’t he been honest with her since day one? Could she keep the truth from him, when he’d been longing for it ever since his father left him there alone? Didn’t Andy deserve some frankness on her part?

‘‘Andy, do you know what a prison is?’’

‘‘A son that hasn’t been born yet?’’

‘‘No.’’ Maybe she would have laughed under other circumstances. ‘‘It’s where all these guys are kept, so they won’t hurt anybody else.’’

‘‘Oh.’’

‘‘There’s a guy named Lenny here,’’ April went on. She noticed Andy’s eyes widening as she spoke. ‘‘Actually, everybody nicknamed him Tenny, because he… He used to kill every woman he dated, exactly ten months after their first kiss.’’

‘‘But that can’t be my dad…’’ Andy gulped after his voice broke.

April opened the binder on Tenny’s profile and passed it to Andy. He observed every detail of it; his hand slightly shaking as he touched the pictures, almost like he wanted to make sure they were real.

‘‘According to this, he turned himself in to the police two years ago,’’ April concluded.

She let him take his time to process it all. Then, and almost instinctively, April reached for his hand. Andy’s lost stare was replaced by an actual conscience when she did so, and he gave her a squeeze in response.

‘‘So… He’s in one of those prisons you were talking about?’’ he asked.

‘‘Yes. Pawnee’s prison.’’

‘‘So, he’s not dead. And he didn’t abandon me,’’ a dangerous hope crossed his face. ‘‘He’s just locked up!’’

‘‘Yeah, because he killed people, Andy. That’s probably why you both lived here, so no one would find him.’’

‘‘Then why did he leave?’’

It was incredible. That guy was a grade A criminal, yet Andy’s sole concern was that he wouldn’t love him. Definitely, Andy wasn’t like most humans.

‘‘I don’t get it,’’ Andy’s eyes dampened, but he didn’t try to hide it.

‘‘Would you…?’’

_No, that’s crazy. He wouldn’t last two days out there. No way. Plus, he’ll be spoiled._

‘‘Would you like to ask him yourself?’’ she let the question slip out nonetheless.

‘‘Like, in person?’’

‘‘Yes,’’ _nononono_. ‘‘Inmates have visiting hours.’’

‘‘What’s an inm-?’’

‘‘A prisoner. I could go with you. If you want.’’

_Good luck with that, Ludgate._

‘‘You’d do that?’’

April nodded. But again, Andy’s eyebrows met fear in the middle.

‘‘But wait… Pawnee is in The Outside.’’

‘‘Well,’’ that was it, she was in way to deep at this point. Stupid gut feelings. ‘‘There’s always a first time.’’


	4. Wind

Packing everything up again pretty much felt like a huge defeat. April had lost her bout against the world: there was no escape, no freedom beyond society’s borders. It kept dragging her down that pit of immorality, no matter how far she went. She wouldn’t be alone this time, which would have reassured her had it not been for the possibility of Andy getting nothing out of that trip, and just being dragged down as well. In her frustration, April tossed her navy blue suitcase against the old Saturn’s trunk, forgetting about its content for a moment.

A familiar laugh came from somewhere in the tree line surrounding the cabin’s clearing as April put the other bag –the one actually stuffed with clothes – in the trunk.

‘‘Oh, my God,’’ Andy made himself visible by stepping out of the foliage. They were supposed to meet there around eight in the morning, or at dawn, as they ended up setting given that Andy didn’t own a watch. ‘‘Is that a car?’’ he asked, his mouth shaped like an O.

‘‘You didn’t know what a lock is, but you’ve seen cars before?’’

‘‘I’d never seen one before, but my dad told me about them. Where did you get it?’’

‘‘It used to be mine. I didn’t have enough money to buy this,’’ April pointed at the wooden house. ‘‘So, I’m giving it to the previous owner as part of the payment. He’s supposed to come and pick it up one of these days, but since he hasn’t…’’

Actually, it was possible that Mr. Swanson had come around for the car and not having seen it, since until then April had had it parked quite far from her new residence, just in case someone tried to track her down. And, considering the amount of time April spent with Andy out in the woods, it was probable that she’d also been unreachable. Anyway, the car was still in her possession, and for better or for worse, it now came in handy.

‘‘Money…’’ Andy frowned, as if trying to remember an old lesson. ‘‘Oh, right. So, do you still use those papers to get things?’’

April’s face twisted in disgust. _You, your people_ … Those were the terms Andy usually used to address whatever was so foreign to him. It implied there was a gap between the two of them, as if they weren’t on the same team despite what he’d told her, and April hated it. Yes, there was a _them_ , but she wasn’t a part of that mob.

‘‘Yeah, _they_ do.’’

‘‘That’s stupid,’’ he chuckled, handing her his backpack.

‘‘Is this all you’re taking?’’

‘‘It’s all I have,’’ he shrugged. ‘‘Except for the red meat, of course. I threw that away so it wouldn’t smell… Wait, what are we going to eat out there?’’

‘‘I’ll take care of that,’’ she said, closing the trunk. ‘‘Did you bring the photo as well?’’

Andy rummaged in the inner pocket of his jacket and took out the picture, now unframed. There he was, the bearded murderer, looking like anything but that as he smiled with a blond toddler in his arms. It was ripped in half, and as April held it in her hand, she wondered what had…

‘‘What?’’ Andy asked when April’s eyes widened.

‘‘There’s a piece of fabric here,’’ she pointed to the lower corner of the image. ‘‘It kinda seems like a dress.’’

‘‘Wow, that’s true. How did I not notice this?’’

‘‘It was probably covered by the frame,’’ April guessed. ‘‘Do you think it could be your mom?’’

Andy pondered it for a moment, completely immersed in the photo, as both the existent and missing pieces puzzled on his mind before composing a canvas of solid determination.

‘‘That’s something I also need to ask him.’’

And then he got into the passenger seat, albeit not without a previous little fight with the door handle.

* * *

Pawnee’s Four Seasoms inn – yes, Seasoms with an m- was as dingy as it was convenient. It was located on the outskirts of town, which would make it less likely for April to run into former acquaintances that could recognize her. The room they were staying in was equally shoddy, but at least the bed was comfortable – the fact that there was only one bed per room said a lot about the place and its regular purpose.

It also had cable TV, although the signal was sure being illegally intercepted. Anyhow, the images on the screen captivated Andy for more than an hour, and every now and then he would ask April about the common things in life he was yet to discover. Some of those questions were simple, and she even found them fun to answer, like why aren’t you supposed to fart in public, or why did people wear those weird things on their ears while riding the bus.

Others were more complicated, also regarding what could and what couldn’t be shared, but on an emotional, deeper level April was not so comfortable with. Or, at least, she wasn’t used to be. She’d been raised to believe that some things needed to be kept to oneself and, as time went on, those things mounted for her to the point where she was left with no other option but to clam up and shut everyone off. Ironically enough, she felt like sharing each and every one of her thoughts with this man that didn’t understand such restrictions. For some reason, talking to him was the equivalent of screaming with the howling wind in an open field, and then lying on the grass while spotting shapes in the clouds. Okay, maybe that one did have to remain a secret.

‘‘I’m gonna buy us some food and… stuff,’’ April said, giving his clothes a once-over.

‘‘Cool, I’m starving. Can I go with you?’’

No, definitely not. One thing was to put that pure soul at risk by agreeing to take him out of his peaceful bubble, which they probably shouldn’t have left to begin with. But actually making Andy interact with the daily elements of harsh reality? Not a chance. April could do little about the influence that TV or even herself could have on him, but she could at least protect him from the rest.

‘‘Weren’t you afraid of, you know, The Outside?’’

‘‘I can handle it, I guess. As long as you’re there.’’

‘‘Nah, stay here,’’ she shrugged him off. ‘‘I need you to do something while I’m gone.’’

April picked up the navy blue suitcase, put it on the bed and pulled the zipper open. It revealed a considerable amount of money, at least for someone who owned a Saturn, stacked in $50 bills. Yes, she might be willing to trade her car for a cabin, but part of her savings needed to be kept just in case.

‘‘Is this-’’

‘‘Money, yes. And I need you to watch it so no one steals it, okay?’’

April grabbed one of the stacks and put it in her purse, then closed the bag and placed it back on the floor.

‘‘I’ll be right back,’’ she promised, and, without even thinking about it, April kissed him on the cheek. It was warm and raspy and, as involuntary as the move had been, it felt good. Andy knew what kisses were (he’d had a family after all) and he didn’t seem much freaked out. Quite the opposite, judging by his expression.

Their eyes met briefly, right before April walked out the door, wishing her cheeks would cool down, trying so hard to remember what she was even going out for.

* * *

‘‘Hi,’’ Andy greeted her as soon as she entered the room.

The sun had set a while ago, and he probably wasn’t much familiar with switchers, so the TV screen was the only source of light before April turned on the lamp on the bedside table. Pawnee Today was on, and Joan Callamezzo’s nerdy guest seemed to be freaking out.

‘‘This guy is hilarious,’’ Andy laughed. ‘‘He talks funny… and look how sweaty he is!’’

The show went to commercial when that strange man claimed there was a bird flying around the set, and Andy pressed a few buttons on the remote till he eventually turned it off.

‘‘What is this stuff?’’ he asked, pointing at the bags April had brought with her.

‘‘Some clothes for you. I mean, you don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to. But…’’ April dusted his shirt off. ‘‘These are cleaner, at least. I also got you some razors and such, in case you might need them. They work pretty much like those thingies you used at home. I mean, in the woods.’’

Andy remained silent as she explained. He almost looked surprised, but there was also a fond, grateful feeling on his face, and that was new. Until then, he’d been the one saving the day, the one who knew exactly what to do, how to get food or just make a decent bonfire. He had been the provider. Now, it was her turn to pay him back.

‘‘Again, you don’t have to-’’

‘‘This is awesome, April,’’ he grinned at her after checking the new plaids out. ‘‘Thank you.’’

Next thing she knew, Andy was wrapping her in his arms so eagerly that he ended up lifting her in the air. He still smelled like pinewood, and April let the scent fill her lungs as her usually tense muscles became liquid. Despite the size disparity, their bodies seemed to fit quite neatly, like a plaster molding into the bone’s shape so it mends properly.

When the embrace ended and he put April back on her feet, both of their senses took conscience of the other smell in the room. It came from a card box inside one of the bags April had brought as part of the shopping. It was the smell of heaven, the smell of pizza.

* * *

‘‘Seriously,’’ Andy said, grabbing another greasy slice even though his mouth was still full. ‘‘Thank you.’’

‘‘It’s nothing,’’ she waved her hand. ‘‘This stuff isn’t that expensive.’’

‘‘No, I mean, for coming with me. I know coming back was, like, the last thing you wanted to do.’’

‘‘I just hope it’ll be worth it.’’

Andy’s face fell, and he suddenly stopped chewing. Maybe he had remembered about the purpose of that journey; April knew by now thinking about his dad tended to put him on his worst mood. Or maybe it was something else, she thought when his eyes pierced her with nothing but pity.

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ he said.

‘‘Hey,’’ April spoke in a softer tone, a voice so rare she barely recognized as hers. ‘‘I’m glad we’re doing this.’’ And, in more ways than she’d previously thought possible, she really was. ‘‘I’m just scared.’’

April’s hand landed on his cheek –seriously, what was it with unconscious moves lately?- and she found herself rubbing her thumb against it.

‘‘Of what?’’

‘‘I don’t know,’’ she sighed.

They stood like that for a minute, lying on that shoddy mattress as the pizza got colder between them; the bedside lamp flickering yet not distracting them from each other.

‘‘Anyway,’’ April snapped out of it. ‘‘I did some research today, too. Turns out they have computers in the lobby. It’s like… a whole library inside of one of those,’’ she explained before he had to ask, pointing towards the TV. ‘‘Inmates in Pawnee’s prison can only be visited on Fridays.’’

‘‘Is that a good thing?’’

‘‘Well, today is Thursday, so yes, it’s a good thing,’’ April half-smiled.

‘‘Cool!’’

And, back in his no-worries state, he took another slice.


	5. Wonder

The first beams of the rising sun, though poorly blocked by those worn down curtains, did nothing to wake April up. Nor did Andy’s snoring right next to her. She first opened her eyes naturally, maybe from a dream she could not remember, but that left her with a peaceful aftertaste.

At some point during the night, Andy had unconsciously wrapped his arm around her waist. It didn’t bother her; nights were getting cold on those first days of October, and the only radiator in that room had been broken since 1986, probably. So, April could use some of Andy’s superhuman warmth for a while. Plus, there was something else to it, something that, even in the morning light, made her want to stay like that forever. But they had things to do.

April turned in his arms, and her eyes lingered on that childish face for a moment. Andy’s mouth corners remained slightly lifted; the joy in him was as pure as it was relentless, even in deep sleep. It would be criminal to wake him up right then, making her no different from the one they were supposed to visit that morning. Thus, she just waited, watching him sleep and wondering, both at and about him.

* * *

‘‘Oh, he’s not here anymore,’’ said the male officer at the other side of the counter. ‘‘He was transferred.’’

The guard kept chewing gum while reading the Pawnee Sun, never bothering to look at them. It wasn’t like Pawnee’s Prison was a huge piece of work, after all. That was a small town, and rarely did people end up there for something graver than just stealing. Andy’s father had been the only exception, at least in recent times.

‘‘Why?’’ Andy asked.

‘‘Why? The guy was crazy,’’ he put the paper aside. His expression turned earnest, but there was also a hint of morbidity, as if he’d been desperate for a juicy story to combat that endless boredom with. ‘‘He tried to hang himse-’’

‘‘Where is he now?’’ April interrupted before he went too far.

‘‘Let me check,’’ the officer closed some silly game on the computer and started typing. ‘‘Indiana State Prison, Michigan City. Makes sense, they have way better security there, and sure as hell they’re gonna need it.’’

‘‘Thanks,’’ April said hurriedly. She grabbed Andy by the hand and dragged him out of there as quickly as possible.

* * *

When April told him to wait in the car, Andy had been nothing but agreeable, still overflowing with excitement. Even though it wouldn’t take them more than three hours to get to Michigan City, the thought of speeding in a car and maybe sticking his head out of the window for that long had him bouncing in the passenger seat. But now, as April left the store and approached the Saturn, that grin of his had turned into a worried grimace.

‘‘Oh, thank God,’’ he sighed in relief. ‘‘I thought something happened to you, like in the news.’’

‘‘Sorry it took me so long,’’ April said, giving him a bag of Skittles. She rummaged in the grocery paper bag for a couple of plastic cases, and then tossed it in the backseat. ‘‘These were hard to find.’’

‘‘What is that?’’

‘‘Well… Remember when you asked me about the headphones?’’ she pointed to both of her ears.

‘‘Yeah. It’s how they listen to other people sing, right?’’

April rolled her lips at the pronoun. ‘‘Aha,’’ she nodded. ‘‘But music is so much more than just the voice and the lyrics, you know?’’

‘‘What d’you mean?’’

April pondered it for a second, trying to decide which of the two CDs she’d just bought would make a better introduction. The car radio broke two months after she got her license, but at least the CD player still worked perfectly. Eventually, April picked the one with _real_ music in it and, once inserted, she turned up the volume.

Andy’s eyes opened wide as the first chords of _In the Aeroplane Over the Sea_ came out from the speakers. He smiled, wonderstruck, staring into space as his head swayed side-to-side to the rhythm imposed by the guitar. When a couple of other instruments came along, right after the first verse, April felt his hand gently closing around her forearm, as if he wanted to make sure she was also hearing, _feeling_ those sounds. Looking down, April noticed the goose bumps rising on his skin. Then, her gaze met his, the singer talking about how the notes bent and reached above the trees, but there was no greenery beyond his eyes, and who would have said they were just in a car, in some parking lot, while most Pawneeans struggled to get their weekly grocery shopping into the trunk. The song died to a weird trumpet’s sound, breaking the spell, making the real world tangible again.

‘‘Wow,’’ he managed to say, his eyes watery.

‘‘Yeah, so…’’ April cleared her throat. ‘‘That’s music,’’ she shrugged, as if wanting to downplay the fact that she’d just showed him the closest thing to magic humans would ever get.

‘‘Thank you,’’ he said in a twangy, earnest voice. ‘‘This is… Thank you.’’

They were close, so close she could see the exact line that his beard (now shorter) described around his lips. Her skin boiled beneath Andy’s hand, still grabbing her arm in his grogginess. April could lean in, she could… not. She’d been selfish enough by now. Yes, she might have discovered music for him, but she was also walking him through the hostile unknown with no guarantee of success. April had no right to make things even more complicated for him.

‘‘Okay,’’ she said, turning to the steering wheel. ‘‘Let’s go see your dad.’’

April turned the engine on and released the handbrake, her fingers still a bit shaky. Her look remained fixed on the road while they passed the misplaced sign that welcomed everyone leaving the city.

* * *

Turns out, Andy didn’t enjoy the other Neutral Milk Hotel songs as much.

‘‘Is music always this sad?’’ he’d asked.

‘‘I don’t see anything wrong with that.’’

‘‘It’s just… so depressing,’’ Andy sneered.

Deep down, April knew he wouldn’t like it. That’s why she’d bought the other album, one she despised to the core but that, for some reason, she thought would be a better match for him. Following her instructions, Andy rescued it from the glove compartment and replaced one CD with the other.

‘‘Dave Matthews Band,’’ he read the cover out loud.

And out loud he sang along each and every one of those tracks by the third time the CD was played in a row. The truth was, he actually could sing. Andy’s pitch had a grungy vibe that turned out to be the perfect chorus. He made listening to that lame band bearable, at least, and at some point April couldn’t hear the lead singer anymore. Even so, there was no way she could listen to it for a fifth time.

‘‘Do you mind if I…’’ April began, but turned the player off before he even answered. ‘‘I need some silence.’’

Andy didn’t complain. Instead, he smiled and pretended to lock his lips. Then, he threw the invisible key over his shoulder.

‘‘I mean, we can talk, though,’’ she rolled her eyes.

Andy unzipped his mouth, and April’s laughter rose above the buzzing sound of the wind coming through the open window. She switched it close so they could talk in a normal voice, but also because, as she’d told him, some quietness was needed.

So they talked at times, but there were also moments where they would just silently watch the naked trees in the forest pass fast on both sides, and the farm houses that stood every now and then, only to resume the conversation after a while. He asked about that first band they’d listened to, and April explained to him why that band was so important to her… which only led to a pile of questions on his part. But the thing about Andy was that his lack of second intentions turned all the presumed rudeness into genuine curiosity. He showed real interest in her; April's likes, dislikes and motives were never mocked, not once. She also told him about her previous life in Pawnee and how much she despised working on retail. How much she despised everything, really, and pretty much everyone.

April turned briefly to look at him. Suddenly, all interest was gone and replaced by the saddest expression ever having crossed his face.

‘‘So… you hate me, too?’’

‘‘What? No!’’

‘‘Okay,’’ he said, though still mournful, unconvinced.

With a sharp veer, April pulled over to the side of the road. A hint of surprise appeared on that dismal face she couldn’t stand seeing any longer.

‘‘Listen to me, Andy. There’s no possible way I can hate you, okay? There just isn’t.’’

‘‘But you said--’’

‘‘Yes, I hated talking to those jerks. But you’re not one of them, you are _not_ like them. Why would I hate you?’’

‘‘Because I screwed up your plans!’’ he almost shouted. ‘‘You didn’t want to live like that anymore, and now you’re here again, and it’s all my fau-.’’

April didn’t let him finish. She shut him up by pressing her mouth against his, partly because he was talking nonsense, partly because she needed a distraction from that lump forming in her throat. And, as she later realized, also because she’d been desperately longing for it. Though confused at first, and as inexperienced as he was, Andy responded to the kiss as if he’d also been starving. His lips lingered against hers, making it clear he didn’t want it to end any soon. April kissed him again, but eventually broke apart because she still had to make sure that he knew.

‘‘I wouldn’t have done it any differently,’’ she said.

He nodded, grinning from ear to ear, believing her at last. And, for once, April believed it too. She needed to help him. He’d been abandoned, treated unfairly by the person he loved the most, yet his pristine spirit remained unmarred. But Andy still deserved an explanation, a closure for that rare story that was his life. And maybe showing him the world’s darkest side was a fair price to pay, maybe it was worth the risk. Maybe she could still protect him throughout that journey so it wouldn’t disrupt him so much.

* * *

 _Anything but Twix bars. And coffee, coffee first of all_ , April thought as she grabbed some snacks in that shady, creepy shop. Apparently, that was the only place in the area where one could buy the closest thing to a breakfast. No Starbucks, no Dunkin’ Donuts, just that run down little store with an elderly, apathetic woman as its only employee. The name _Ethel Beavers_ was barely readable on the patch of her vest. April paid and walked out; Ethel didn’t wish her a good day, and neither did she. That was good for a change: the eerier the place, the fewer the masks.

The vicinity of Indiana State Prison was ghoulish indeed. Of course they could have gone downtown and stayed in some decent hotel, but it felt like a waste of time considering their plan was to sleep there for just one night, go see Lenny the next morning (here, visiting hours extended to all weekend), and go back to Pawnee as soon as they were done. Thus, they had spent the night at the closest inn to the prison, which made Pawnee’s Four Seasoms look like a luxury resort.

April knew it was a bad place the moment she pulled in the parking lot, so she’d insisted Andy to pick up their things fast, leaving nothing of value inside the car. Andy obeyed, and he took the two CDs as well. As they approached the entrance, April glimpsed a group of junkies sharing needles in the alley beside the block. It seemed to her that those three smackheads stared at them as they passed, but April didn’t look twice. With an arm around Andy’s waist, she urged him to pick up the pace.

But that had happened the day before. April saw no drug addicts, drunks or robbers that morning. It was probably too early for them to be awake, anyway. It didn’t take her too long to cover the small distance between Ethel’s shop and the inn. She stopped next to her car to make sure no one had knifed the tires or tried to break into it. Everything seemed okay –owning a car that old had its perks, after all,- so she headed to the room where Andy was waiting for her, probably with a rumbling stomach.

April fumbled in her purse for the room’s key, albeit not without some difficulties: she didn’t want to drop the food, let alone the two cups of coffee she was struggling to hold. But, much to her surprise, no key was needed when she reached the door. It was ajar, although the lock didn’t seem to have been forced.

‘‘Andy?’’ she called.

There was no response. April’s blood froze, and so did her muscles. Her heart skipped a beat as she pushed the door open. The room was small enough for her to know there was no one else there by just giving it a quick once-over. No one, except Andy. He was lying on the floor, apparently unconscious. April’s hand tightened its grip on the door knob as the blood oozed slowly from his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I prefer Matt Pond PA's version of that song, but who am I to deprive April of her favorite band?


	6. Ways

‘‘Does it hurt?’’ April asked, cleaning Andy’s forehead with a wet towel.

‘‘Kind of,’’ he answered. ‘‘But I’ve been through worse.’’

‘‘Worse how?’’

‘‘Well,’’ he chuckled. ‘‘One time I was trying to catch a squirrel for supper, so I climbed this tree and… It didn’t go well.’’

‘‘You fell?’’

‘‘Face down.’’

And then both laughed, as if they hadn’t just been robbed by a gang of drug addicts, as if April’s money bag was still there, as if she hadn’t almost passed out when she saw him lying there and expected the worst.

Dropping everything she was carrying, April had bent down beside him, desperately trying to wake him up after she’d checked he still had a pulse. She didn’t yell for help; the few sounds her vocal chords were able to produce were entirely focused on bringing him back. And, after what it felt like an eternity - an eternity where she was alone again, with nowhere to go, starving back in the woods and as aimless as she would have been in the city,- Andy regained conscience and greeted her with the dumbest smile on his face and a simple _hey_.

Fortunately, he’d been able to walk on his own feet and laid himself down on the bed so he could rest his wounded head on the cushions. Apart from the obvious relief that the injure wasn’t so serious, April was glad she didn’t have to drag his gigantic body up the bed – not that she could have on her own, anyways, but the last thing she needed was another stranger coming into their room.

‘‘Well, I think this will do,’’ April said when she finished wrapping the improvised bandage around Andy’s head. Sure they would be far gone by the time anyone noticed the ripped bed sheet.

‘‘Thank you,’’ he half smiled.

She leaned forward to kiss him, and he responded to it as though he wasn’t hurting at all. But, the moment they broke apart, his poorly hidden grimace of pain told her otherwise.

‘‘So… You’re not mad?’’ he asked out of nowhere.

‘‘Mad? Why would I be?’’

‘‘You told me to watch the bag while you were gone… And I let those guys take it. They seemed nice, so I opened the door, and then-’’

‘‘Shh…’’ April put a finger on his lips. _Nice_? Really? Probably they could have taken everything they had with no violence whatsoever. ‘‘It wasn’t your fault, okay? In fact, none of this would have happened if I’d chosen somewhere decent to stay in, instead of this devil’s butt crack full of… crack.’’

Andy stared at her for a moment, though apparently struggling to keep a straight face. Then he… well, he cracked up.

‘‘That was so funny!’’ he laughed uncontrollably.

April was sure he knew nothing about that word’s second meaning, which made his outburst of laughter even more absurd… and contagious. Before she knew it, April was muffling her own laugh against his shoulder, forgetting all guilt, and the fact that they were completely broke.

* * *

The coffee from the prison cafeteria tasted like a belt. But, given that the two cups she’d bought that morning were now nothing but a dried, brownish stain back on the Inn’s carpet, April figured any amount of caffeine was worth investing the loose change they still had left.

The place was quite crowded with visitors, but Andy’s good eyesight allowed him to spot a free table at the back of the room.

‘‘What are these for?’’ he asked, pointing at the straw dispenser once they sat facing each other.

April took one of them, placed it into her cup and took another disgusting sip.

‘‘Wow!’’ Andy exclaimed. ‘‘That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!’’

‘‘Really? This?’’

With his ever-present smile, Andy grabbed a straw and copied her.

‘‘It tastes the same, though,’’ he frowned.

April made a face. ‘‘I know. It’s like it’s made with pooped water or something.’’

‘‘Maybe if we add some more…’’

And then, he took a handful of straws from the jar and began to stick them together.

‘‘Look! I just made a super-’’

‘‘Straw?’’ she helped him.

‘‘Yes! Super Straw!’’

April couldn’t help but laugh afterwards, and then again at his great disappointment when the undrinkable beverage still tasted like garbage no matter how many straws he used. She soon noticed most people in the cafeteria were staring at them. It would have bothered her before; those scrutinizing eyes always seemed to have petrifying powers, regardless of their owner’s stupidity. But not this time. Now, she just wanted to let herself be swept off by Andy’s ways of being, of seeing the world. Because, despite having looked everything that was wrong in the eye (and been hit in the head by it), he still was joyful enough to make the longest straw in Indiana. Was that an immutable trait of his? Could Andy be exposed to the world, yet keep being… well, _him_?

‘‘Andrew Dwyer?’’ an officer holding a clipboard called from the entrance, interrupting April’s train of thought.

‘‘That’s me,’’ Andy muttered. Suddenly, all trace of fun disappeared from his expression. He turned pale, frozen in the spot. ‘‘That’s me,’’ he repeated.

‘‘Hey,’’ April cupped his cheeks in her hands so he would look at her. ‘‘You can do this, okay? You deserve to know.’’

Andy nodded, letting her words sink in and become true. He then stood up and started walking among the tables, from where those meatheads kept staring. A couple of steps farther, he turned around to April.

‘‘Aren’t you coming?’’ he asked. Now, he seemed utterly afraid.

‘‘Do you want me to?’’ After all, it was none of her business. Not that April didn’t care, of course she did. But she’d done her part, her job here was done, and up until then she’d been subconsciously coming to terms with the fact that she would no longer be needed after that.

‘‘Andrew Dwyer?’’ the officer called again.

‘‘Please,’’ he almost begged. ‘‘I mean, unless you don’t want to.’’

April rolled her lips, a warmth, cheery feeling in her chest that was totally uncalled-for considering they were about to go speak with a serial killer. She got to where Andy was standing, and he grabbed her by the hand. April gave it a little squeeze as they walked through the doors… Or maybe it was Andy who squeezed hers.

* * *

Lenny ‘Tenny’ Dwyer really looked like a crazy murderer. He even was much thinner and more decrepit than the man in April’s mug shot. But, thanks to Andy’s family photo, she knew that guy had known better days. At least, on the outside.

‘‘Son,’’ Lenny said with a raspy voice. A pane of glass intervened between the prisoner and his visitors. ‘‘Who is this?’’ he asked, annoyed at the sight of April.

‘‘She’s my babe-’’ Andy began, almost defensively. He’d probably heard that on TV.

‘‘Girlfriend,’’ April corrected him.

_Although, was that the right term? What were they exactly?_

‘‘And she can stay as long as she wants,’’ Andy concluded.

‘‘How did you find me?’’ Lenny asked when they sat across him.

Andy glanced briefly towards April and then he looked down, smiling to himself. But then his expression turned serious again, as if remembering that wasn’t the gist of their visit.

‘‘How could you?’’ he asked back. ‘‘I mean…’’ A deep sigh followed his words. It was the kind of sigh one lets out before letting the tears do their job. April grabbed his hand tighter, and apparently that gave him the strength to keep it together. ‘‘How could you leave me, dad?’’

He might as well have asked how he could have killed who knew how many women, but anyways. _Andy’s_ ways.

‘‘Look, Andy,’’ his dad leaned forward, and April noticed the red marks around his neck. ‘‘It wasn’t because I didn’t love you.’’

‘‘You loved me?’’

‘‘Yes.’’

April repressed a snort.

‘‘Then, why?’’

‘‘Guilt. I never thought twice about what I’d done. But, as you grew up… You were nothing like me, and that made me realize. I understood what a monster I was. I couldn’t live with myself, let alone with you. So, I turned myself in.’’

‘‘Why didn’t you tell me? You could’ve left a letter for me or something.’’

‘‘I didn’t want you to come after me. You know nothing about the real world, Andy. How would you survive? How have you?’’

‘‘I’ve had a little help,’’ Andy shrugged, kissing the back of April’s hand.

‘‘I’m sorry, son. For _everything_.’’

April couldn’t help but notice the emphasis on that last word. Something in the way he’d said that implied there was so much more. April could either dig further into it or keep her mouth shut and protect Andy from whatever dark truth Lenny was hiding. But Andy had proven to be darkness-proof and, as she’d told him before, he deserved to know.

‘‘The photo,’’ she whispered.

‘‘What?’’

Fumbling inside Andy’s pocket, she took it herself and gave it to him.

‘‘Oh, yeah,’’ Andy looked at the picture for a moment and then pressed it against the glass so his father could see it. ‘‘Whose is that dress?’’ he pointed to the paper’s edge.

Lenny sighed. ‘‘I’m really sorry, kid.’’

‘‘Whose is it?!’’ April inquired, and even Andy was startled by her tone.

‘‘Is it my mom’s?’’ Andy asked, though his voice remained quiet, defeated.

‘‘It was.’’

‘‘Explain yourself,’’ she demanded.

‘‘Your mother and I conceived you on the very first night we met. That’s also when we first kissed.’’

_Oh, no. No._

It took Andy a little longer to glue the pieces together, but he eventually did.

‘‘Tenny,’’ he managed to say.

‘‘You were only one month old when I…’’ Lenny looked down, hit by some grisly flashback. ‘‘But I wasn’t so careful that time, and there was a chance the police would begin to suspect… So, I ran away and took you with me.’’

Andy was shocked. He let the photo fall on the table, never bothering to take it back.

‘‘I don’t want to be here anymore,’’ he said, a blank stare on his face.

‘‘Let’s go,’’ April helped him up.

She wrapped one arm around his waist as they walked out. Her free hand held Andy’s, and the way it trembled twisted her stomach. She could have vomited that gruesome coffee on the spot.

* * *

They drove in silence. No music, no singing, no meaningful conversations this time. Just the thud humming of the engine, and the different sounds the tires made depending on the type of road beneath them. But it wasn’t the awkward kind of quietness. Just something they both needed, especially Andy. He’d heard too much, and sometimes words can only be palliated with their absence.

Even so, there was something April needed to inform him of. She didn’t tell him after almost two hours on the road, when it was obvious they wouldn’t make it to Pawnee.

‘‘We’re running out of gas,’’ she said.

‘‘Huh?’’ Andy came back to Earth.

‘‘We’ve got practically no gas left. I don’t think we’re going to make it.’’

‘‘Can’t we get some more?’’

‘‘Of course. If we steal it.’’

‘‘But we don’t steal,’’ Andy frowned.

‘‘No,’’ she sighed. ‘‘We don’t.’’

As expected, the Saturn exhaled its last carbonic breath not long after, dying with the sun. April seized the car’s last momentum to pull off the side of the road.

‘‘Great,’’ she took the keys out.

‘‘What do we do now?’’

Andy didn’t seem worried at all. His voice was off, as if he didn’t really care or couldn’t put much of himself in other than his own thoughts.

‘‘We wait till it’s morning again,’’ April decided, staring at the sunset. ‘‘Then we hitchhike.’’

‘‘Cool,’’ Andy said. He didn’t even ask what _hitchhiking_ was.

* * *

April wasn’t the type to plan an indefinite retreat in terms of food, or anything, really. Thankfully, her dad was. He never knew about April’s departure, at least not until he read the note she left on the coffee table. Though it had been barely two weeks since then, to her it seemed like a lifetime ago.

Larry Ludgate was the kind of guy who would put his family first. Never was he negligent when it came to April’s wellbeing, and he’d always make sure she had everything she needed. He worried a lot as well, which annoyed her to the core, even though he was right 90% of the time. Such concern led him to do stuff most parents didn’t, like checking her homework every night or, later in life, filling her car with emergency items. The majority of them never came in handy (who would need walkie-talkies these days) but now, as she spread those blankets she’d found in the trunk, April couldn’t be gladder. She also found herself missing her dad in a way she never thought possible. As she’d learned recently, not everyone was that lucky.

‘‘Can I help?’’ Andy asked, suddenly beside her. He’d stayed in the car at first, but now he seemed livened up. For the first time since they left the prison, he was smiling at her, almost like he always had.

‘‘Yeah,’’ she said softly.

By laying the blankets on the grass, they got something like a wide sleeping bag. It turned out to be pretty comfortable once they snuggled inside, though still a bit cold. The Midwest autumn had no mercy, after all. Reaching for her, Andy brought April close so she could nestle against him. The starry sky glistened aloft, so bright that April doubted she would get any sleep at all if it weren’t for the calming sound of Andy’s heartbeat beneath her ear.

‘‘So… you’re my girlfriend, huh?’’

‘‘I guess,’’ she let her fingers intertwine with his. ‘‘I don’t know, it kind of comes up short. Is that what you are really thinking about?’’

‘‘It’s not the only thing. It’s like I have all these things coming at me, too much to think about at once. But that’s the only happy thought I have right now.’’

‘‘Do you wish we’d never gone there?’’ April propped her head up on one elbow so she could look at him.

‘‘No, I’m glad we did. Now I know the truth.’’

April rested her head back on his chest. They remained like that for a while, the silence only interrupted by the few, occasional cars speeding through that usually empty road. April was starting to drift off when he spoke again.

‘‘There’s another thing I know.’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘There’s still good in the world.’’

As wrong as he was, April couldn’t stand the idea of him thinking otherwise.

‘‘I mean, look at you,’’ he continued. ‘‘You’re the coolest, best person I’ve ever met. And, if my dad ran away, that’s because there were good people trying to find him so he wouldn’t hurt anybody else. There are good people and bad people, that’s all.’’

‘‘Well, I’m glad you’re one of the good ones,’’ she said, kissing him on the lips.

At some point in the night, all thoughts –both good and bad- vanished in their sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should be an epilogue for this coming soon :)


	7. Epilogue

_One year later._

The sun was making the hills its grave once more; those red beams still reflecting on the lake surface. It was the same lake where Andy had shown her what a _nature shower_ was, where they’d had their first improvised picnic together, where he’d told her about his father for the first time. Now, that lake and the grassy mounds around it had become a special place they went to almost every day. Somewhere only they knew.

Another good thing about it was that it wasn’t much far from what used to be April’s cabin. The wooden house was _theirs_ now. And, despite the amount of time both spent in Pawnee these days, purchasing a house in the city wasn’t part of their plan. Yes, civilization was great when it came to have decent groceries in the pantry, see her family every once in a while, go to the movies or actually having someone to scare on Halloween. But, at the end of the day, nothing could compare to the coziness of the cabin and the privacy in the woods.

‘‘I don’t know,’’ Andy said after a while, his hair still a wet mess. ‘‘D’you really think I could do it?’’

‘‘Of course,’’ April scoffed. ‘‘Besides, there isn’t much to do. Usually Leslie takes care of everything.’’

Ever since Ron told her about that opening at the Parks Department –he’d hired her without even considering the other applicants- her job had basically consisted in dropping calls and keeping people away from her boss’ desk. She was pretty good at it; after all, it was way better than retail.  Pleased by her efficiency, Ron had let her keep the car.

‘‘Then why does she need an assistant?’’ Andy asked.

‘‘Don’t know,’’ April shrugged. ‘‘But who cares? At least you wouldn’t get that shoeshine head of yours anymore,’’ she elbowed him playfully.

‘‘But would we still have burgers for lunch?’’ As someone who’d spent most of his life without ketchup and buns, he was now making up for it.

‘‘Duh.’’

‘‘And fries? And coffee?’’

‘‘None of that would change,’’ she smiled at him.

‘‘Then, deal!’’

Andy kissed her in his excitement, then stood up and ran towards a rock near the water. April followed him closely and jumped on his back when he stopped near the edge.

‘‘Hold on tight,’’ he said.

They dove in with a whoop of freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that took the time to read this. Really, thank you forever :)


End file.
